


You Do Have Really Nice Legs

by XxmerthurcatxX



Series: Gallavich Fix It Fics [10]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Dirty Talk, Feelings, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Language, M/M, Making Love, after Mickey comes out, episode 4x11, i swear i never wrote dirty talk until i started writing about these two, non graphic injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 04:03:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxmerthurcatxX/pseuds/XxmerthurcatxX
Summary: What happens after Mickey comes out at the Alibi?This is what I imagine happened after Ian took Mickey home that night. Feelings, light angst, and smut ahead. As always I take prompts, feel free to hit me up in the comments section.





	You Do Have Really Nice Legs

Mickey plopped down on the hood of a car parked outside the Alibi, still trying to get his breath back. Everything hurt; his face, his back, his stomach. Though he wasn’t sure if that last one was from the kidney punches Terry landed or because he’d just come out to a room full of people, half of whom hated queers. What the fuck was he thinking? He glanced up when he saw Ian making his way over to him, plunking down on the car across from Mickey. Oh, right. That’s what he’d been thinking. They didn’t say anything, neither boy quite sure where to start. A couple of Terry’s friends sauntered by. Mickey gave them a wary look, not sure he had it in him to go around round with fists flying. 

“Gay, huh?” one of them asked. 

Mickey didn’t say anything. 

The two laughed, shaking their heads as they continued down the street. Either they were too drunk to fag bash or they figured being gay and having Terry Milkovich for a father was punishment enough. 

Ian pulled a flask from his jacket, taking a sip before handing it over to Mickey. Their fingers brushed and Ian took the opportunity to brush his thumb over the back of Mickey’s knuckles. For the first time, Mickey didn’t yank his hand away because they were in public. He was out now. There was no unchecking that box. 

“Think I broke half a fuckin’ tooth,” Mickey grouched, poking his finger around his mouth to check.

“Yeah, my ribs don’t feel so good,” Ian grumbled, watching Mickey take a slow sip off the flask. He looked exhausted Ian noted, understandable since he’d just gotten his face bashed in, but he was lighter to. His shoulders were relaxed for maybe the first time ever. “So...you really came out, huh?” 

Mickey huffed, shaking his head. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna wear a fuckin dress or anything,” he groussed, handing the flask back to Ian. 

“Nobody fuckin asked you to,” Ian said, grinning. His eyes swept over Mickey and he shrugged. “Though you do have really nice legs.” 

Mickey’s eyes shot up, his shocked face melting quickly into a smile. A real smile. One of the few times Ian had seen it since they started this thing a few years ago. Usually Mickey smirked or his toothy grins had an air of mocking or cruelty. Oh, but this smile. His face may have been caked with blood and his hair sticking up in a million different directions, but it didn’t matter. He had never looked more beautiful. So free. 

“You’re a fuckin dick,” Mickey said, chuckling. 

Ian laughed, cursing at the sharp pain in his ribs. Jesus, having someone break a chair over your back really does a number. Not to mention the well aimed kick or two he received from one of Terry’s buddies. 

“Yeah, that’s what you get,” Mickey laughed, shaking his head. The smile slipped from his face as he looked down, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Oh god, he came out. He came out to his dad. Sure he’d busted his probation and was likely to get his ass thrown back in jail, at least for a little while, but what about when he got out. He’d come after him. He’d come after Ian. He’d-

Mickey was pulled from his thoughts when he felt an arm wrap around him, glancing up to see Ian smiling shyly down at him. He let the redhead pull him in to his chest, resting his head against his shoulder as Ian pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Mickey’s head. 

“We should get out of here,” Ian said after a moment, eyeing a few stragglers who were still hanging around outside the Alibi, giving him and Mickey the stink eye. 

Mickey nodded, allowing Ian to help him down the street and back to the Gallagher house. It wasn’t too far a walk and despite the pain of their injuries, both boys were in need of the fresh air. 

The house was mercifully, if strangely, empty when they got there. Ian figured Carl must be out with Bonnie, Debbie crashing with Hollie and Ellie, Liam at college with Lip and of course, Fiona in prison. He’d never been more thankful for his dysfunctional family. Mickey was vulnerable right now, even if he wouldn’t admit it. The last thing he needed was to be subjected to the whole Gallagher clan. 

“Start the shower would ya?” Ian asked. “I’m gonna get us some clean clothes.”

He waited for Mickey to grunt in acknowledgement before he headed to his room. He snagged them each a pair of clean sweats, knowing they would be a little long on Mickey but figuring anything with better than the jeans he was wearing, which were soaking wet from the snow. Since comfort was key he went for a flannel for Mickey and a thermal for himself. Satisfied with his choices he headed back to the bathroom. 

Mickey was already in the shower so Ian stripped quickly and pushed open the curtain to join him. He wasn’t prepared to see Mickey sitting on the floor of the shower, arms wrapped around himself and face hidden in his knees. The boy didn’t even look up when Ian opened the curtain. His shoulders were shaking and Ian could just make out the sound of Mickey’s quiet sob over the roar of the water. 

Without a word he stepped into the shower behind Mickey, sitting with his legs on either side of the crying boy. He slowly ran his hands up and down Mickey’s arms, trying to warm him up and sooth the goosebumps on his skin in a way the warm water washing over them couldn’t. He pressed soft kisses to the back of Mickey’s neck and over the knobs of his spine, smiling a small little smile when he felt Mickey’s breathing even out as his muscles relaxed under Ian’s ministrations. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Ian said quietly, resting his forehead against Mickey’s back. “When I called you a pussy. Said you were a coward. I-I didn’t mean it. You’re brave, Mickey. You’re so brave,” he told him, kissing his shoulder. 

Something must have snapped in Mickey because in the next second he was twisting himself around, a little awkwardly given the limited space, so that he was facing Ian. The redhead swallowed hard, ready for Mickey to tell him he was an idiot for making him come out like that. He didn’t need to tell him. Ian knew it wasn’t fair. Sure, he didn’t want to have to hide what they had anymore, but giving Mickey an ultimatum like that? It was a dick move and he knew it. 

“I’m sorry, Mick. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have made you do that. It wasn’t fair to make you do something you weren’t ready for. I’m so-

He was cut off by Mickey’s lips pressing against his, gentle but firm. It was quick and chaste, Mickey pulling away a few seconds later to tuck his face into the crook of Ian’s neck. He sniffled once, his hand giving one of Ian’s knees a squeeze before he pulled back, the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Did you see Terry’s fuckin face?” he asked. 

Ian laughed, wincing at the temporarily forgotten pain in his ribs and shaking his head.

“Man, he was so pissed,” he said, a smirk forming. “What was it you said to him when the cops were dragging him away?”

Mickey blushed. 

“Fuck off.”

But Ian didn’t pull back, running his nose up the column of Mickey’s neck and pressing his lips against his ear. 

“He gives it to me  _ good _ and  _ hard _ , and I fucking like it,” he breathed, grinning as Mickey shuddered against him. The older boy pressed closer to Ian, groaning as the redhead swirled his tongue around the shell of his ear before nipping at the lobe. Before he could get too into it though, Ian was pulling away, grabbing a washcloth from the shower bar and running it under the hot water. “Gotta get cleaned up first,” he said, trying and failing to keep his face in check when he saw Mickey’s pout. 

“Tease,” Mickey grumbled, hissing when Ian pressed the cloth against his forehead.

He worked in silence, washing the blood from Mickey’s face, thankful that once the blood was gone it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Mickey moved to return the favor but Ian shook his head, snagging the shampoo and squeezing a generous dollop on his hand before working his fingers through Mickey’s sweaty tangles. The thug sighed, letting his head drop forward as Ian worked the shampoo into a lather, then angled Mickey’s head under the spray of the water, scrubbing gently until his hair was free of any bubbles. 

When he finished, Mickey got to his feet, pulling Ian up with him and almost losing his balance in the process. They clung to each other, laughing as they found their footing. Mickey’s laughter abruptly cut off when he noticed the state of Ian’s torso. His stomach was peppered with freshly forming bruises, red and angry. Mickey reached out a tentative hand, brushing over a bruise above his hip, making the redhead hiss.

“Sorry. Gotta check for broken ribs,” Mickey mumbled, waiting for Ian to nod before continuing his check up. He wasn’t a doctor or anything, but he did have four brothers who had gotten into enough scrapes over the years that he was pretty decent at patching people up. He was pretty confident he knew the difference between broken ribs and cracked ribs. “Nothin broken. Or cracked. Just bruised as hell. Gonna hurt like a bitch for a week or two, but you’ll be fine. Take it easy though, yeah?” Mickey decided, grabbing another washcloth, cause sharing a bloody one just seemed like a bad idea.

“You gonna make sure I get plenty of bed rest?” Ian smirked. 

Mickey rolled his eyes, pressing the washcloth a little too hard to Ian’s cheek. 

“Shut up, Romeo. Gotta get the blood off your face before any of that shit,” Mickey reminded him, pleased with the disappointed look on the redhead’s face. Served him right. If he could be a tease, so could Mickey. As if to prove that point, Mickey grabbed the bar of soap from the dish running it over Ian’s chest and down his stomach, wary of his bruised ribs. He hummed quietly to himself, trying to appear nonchalant as he trailed the soap lower, brushing across Ian’s thigh. His lip twitched when Ian’s breath hitched, but Mickey wasn’t going to give into the urge to drop to his knees and suck him into his mouth, as tempting as it was. Instead, he finished cleaning Ian up then reached behind him to turn the water off. 

They dried off and dressed in silence, Ian occasionally bonking his hip against Mickey’s and smiling when he caught the older boy’s eye. Mickey would roll his eyes and smile back, feeling for the first time like he deserved this. Deserved to be stupid and happy with the overgrown redhead. He wasn’t hiding anymore. He wasn’t asking Ian to hide. He was fucking free. 

Ian closed the door to his room when they got there, making sure to lock it in case his family came back unexpectedly as they were known to do. Mickey surprised him, spinning the redhead and shoving him against the door, pressing their lips together in a bruising kiss. And speaking of bruising, the groan Ian let out against Mickey’s lips wasn’t entirely one of pleasure. He was sore as fuck and as much as he liked it when Mickey took the lead like this, he figured it would be more comfortable if they moved a few feet to the left, where his bed was waiting for them. He told Mickey as much and, after calling him a wuss, Mickey had practically leapt onto the bed, dragging the redhead down on top of him. 

The kiss was fast and harsh for all of two seconds before Mickey away with a startled yelp, fingers gingerly touching his split lip that was threatening to reopen. Before he could say anything Ian started kissing and sucking at his neck, eager to make Mickey forget any pain he was in. It worked as the older boy groaned, rolling his hips up to meet Ian’s. The redhead hummed contentedly into Mickey’s neck, yelping with the latter wrapped an arm around his back, pressing a little too hard against his injured ribs. 

“Jesus christ, how are we supposed to fuck like this? We’re gonna keep hurtin’ each other,” Mickey groussed. 

Ian shook his head, smiling fondly at his grumpy boyfriend. 

“I think you’re gonna have to trust me,” he said, arching a challenging brow at the boy beneath him. Mickey raised both eyebrows right back at him, but nodded slowly. 

With Mickey’s consent, Ian slid down his body, pulling off the grey sweats as he went and wasting no time sucking the head of Mickey’s dick into his mouth. Mickey’s reaction was instant, his head dropping back against the pillows and his hands fisting in the sheets to keep from touching the redhead, for fear he might accidentally hurt him...partly because he didn’t want to hurt him and partly because he didn’t want Ian to stop what he was currently doing with his tongue. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” Mickey cursed, gasping when Ian hummed around him and slid one finger down to tease at his entrance. “H-hang on,” Mickey grunted, sitting up a little to reach into the bedside table and pull out the bottle of lube he knew Ian kep there. He took the opportunity to rip his shirt off before he handed the lube to Ian, impressed that the redhead didn’t stop sucking his dick as he flicked the cap up and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers. 

Ian worked Mickey open nice and easy, taking his time until he could fit three fingers without too much resistance. Mickey was a mess above him. Every time he’d been about to come, Ian would grip the base of his dick to keep him from finishing. It was maddening. 

“Jesus, are you gonna do that all night or are you gonna get the fuck on me?” Mickey snapped when he had finally had enough. Ian relented, pulling off Mickey’s dick with a wet pop and quickly shedding his clothes. 

“Condom?” Ian asked, holding his hand out and waiting for Mickey to hand him one. The thug did so eagerly, practically throwing the condom at the redhead’s face. Ian rolled it on quickly, stroking himself a few times with more lube and then he was pushing into his boyfriend, groaning low in the back of his throat. 

“Fuck,  _ yes _ ,” Mickey moaned, reaching out to grab at Ian. The younger boy caught Mickey’s hands, pinning them down next to his head as he laid himself along the length of Mickey’s body. 

“Got you at my mercy, Mick,” Ian murmured, lips brushing against the other boy’s teasingly. He held back from kissing him, for fear of reopening the split lip...again.

“S-shut up and fuck me,” Mickey practically growled. 

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Ian mused, though he did start rocking his hips forward, delighting in the way Mickey shivered against him. Despite Mickey’s pleas he kept a slow and steady pace, eager to have their injuries as an excuse to make love to Mickey the way he always wanted to. “Do you like it like this, Mick?” he asked. “I can still fuck you good and hard going slow. You deserve to take it slow like this. To let me break you apart piece by piece,” he teased his tongue around Mickey’s ear as he had done outside the Alibi. This time Mickey fucking keened, squirming against the hold Ian had of his hands, desperate to get his hands all over it. 

“Ian,  _ please _ ,” he begged. He needed to come like, yesterday, but Ian was on a roll now.

“Always wanted to do it like this. Make love to you instead of fuck you fast and dirty in the dugout. God, Mickey, you’re so good for me. So beautiful,” he crooned. 

Mickey leaned his temple against Ian’s, turning his head as much as he could so his mouth was pressed to Ian’s ear. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

Ian was so surprised by the sudden confession he stopped moving completely, leaning up to stare at Mickey with wide eyes. 

“Don’t look so fuckin shocked. You knew that,” Mickey snapped, cheeks going bright red with embarrassment. 

“Knowing it is different than hearing it,” Ian breathed, crashing his mouth against Mickeys, split lip be damned. Mickey didn’t seem to mind, kissing Ian back eagerly, slipping his tongue into the redhead’s mouth. Ian may be the top in the relationship, but when it came to kissing, Mickey had all the control. He always did. Not that Ian minded. Mickey always kissed him like he was a drowning man and he needed Ian save him. Ian pulled away when he tasted the sharp tang of blood on his tongue. Guess the lip was an issue after all. Mickey sighed at the loss but it melted into a series of choked gasps when Ian started fucking into him again, still keeping it slow but deeper this time. 

“M’close,” Mickey grunted. “So close. Touch me,” he pleaded. 

Ian shook his head. 

“You can come like this. I know you can. Come on, Mick. You know I don’t have to touch you. You’ll come just as hard, maybe  _ harder _ , without it,” Ian said, breath heavy. He was close too, but he was determined to get Mickey off first.  

Mickey looked like he wanted to protest but Ian changed the angle of his hips, hitting his prostate dead on, and Mickey was fucking done. He threw his head back against the pillows, a soft cry echoing throughout the room as he came between their sweat slick bodies. It took one, two, three thrusts and then Ian was following, breath hitching as he came harder than he had in a long time. Maybe ever. 

Ian’s grip on Mickey’s hands went slack as he caught his breath against the other boy’s neck, vaguely aware of Mickey using his new found freedom to slide his fingers through Ian’s hair. 

“We need another shower,” Mickey groussed. 

Ian leaned up in his elbows to grin at him. 

“Worth it.”

Mickey chewed his bottom lip, the way he always did when something was bothering him. 

“What’s wrong?” Ian asked, slipping out of his boyfriend and gingerly rolling onto his side next to him. Sure, he’d gone slow to try to minimize the strain on his ribs, but it still hurt like a bitch. But like he’d told Mickey. Totally worth it. 

“Nothin,” Mickey said stubbornly. 

Ian was at a loss. They’d just had mind blowing sex and he had been looking forward to basking in the damn afterglow. How was he supposed to fix it if Mickey wouldn’t-

“You didn’t say it back.”  
Ian blinked at the older boy, who was staring resolutely at the ceiling. 

“Didn’t say what back?” he asked, confused. 

Mickey huffed. 

“You know what.”

It took Ian a second to connect the dots and when he did he felt like an idiot. He cupped Mickey cheek, carefully turning his face so he could look him in the eyes. 

“I love you, Mick,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and pulling the other boy close so Mickey’s head was resting on his chest. “I’m so far gone on you it’s ridiculous,” he admitted, burying his nose in Mickey’s hair and inhaling deeply. 

Mickey hummed against him, tracing haphazard patterns across Ian’s arm and planting a trail of kisses across his chest. For a minute, everything in the world was fucking perfect...until they heard the door slam downstairs and loud voices, indicating at least a couple of the Gallaghers had returned. 

Ian expected Mickey to leap out of his arms and throw on his cloths, ready to spin some lie about troubles at home and crashing on Ian’s floor. Instead he groaned the groan that was reserved for the idea of dealing with any member of Ian’s family besides Ian and snuggled closer. 

“If we pretend we don’t know they’re here, maybe they’ll go away,” Mickey grumbled, already half asleep.

Ian smiled, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over them, just in case Carl decided to pick the lock.

“Fuck ‘em. Tonight, it’s just you and me.”


End file.
